


A Guide To Immortal Parenting, Vol. 1

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A lot of Queen, Best Parent Award to Aziraphale, Best dads, Crowley is really trying, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Raising a baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crowley does the deed. He hands the Antichrist over as strictly instructed. But, as he makes his silent leave, he catches a nun taking an unknown newborn away from the frantic exchange. This is how he suddenly ends up with a baby, and decides to call on the most qualified person he knows to help. Aziraphale.





	A Guide To Immortal Parenting, Vol. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i am now rushing a german final project i haven’t finished but i figured i should post

“I’m afraid we are quite definitely closed,” The angel’s voice chimed from the other end.

Crowley spoke roughly into the telephone booth’s phone, “Aziraphale. It’s me. We need to talk.” The demon heard the angel take in a breath as if to speak, but he quickly cut him off.

“It’s not what you think.”

There was no clear response on the other side of the line, but Crowley swore he could hear irritated sputtering.

“What, pray tell, did you get yourself into?” Aziraphale replied, attempting to mask his concern with frustration, but failing miserably. 

Crowley would find this situation almost comical if it wasn’t for how awful and stupid it was. The reality of the whole thing was he was now standing in a telephone booth, a stirring baby practically hanging off his hip, and a panicked Aziraphale on the line. 

The worst part, Crowley thinks, is he isn’t entirely sure how it all happened. One moment he was handing off the Antichrist the next he was stopping a nun in the hall who was wheeling off a baby for an unknown location.

He’d foolishly decided to lean over the plastic crib and take look at the newborn. The baby had bitter little eyes and a button nose. He was a funny mix of scornful and adorable, and Crowley couldn’t help but give in. The nun seemed more than happy to be rid off the child.

Just then, the baby boy cried out when a sudden gust of wind nipped at his face. Crowley felt panic rising in his throat as he tried to calm the baby down, but to no avail.

There was a gasp from the receiver. “My _goodness_ , was that a _baby_?”

Crowley didn’t have it in himself to retort. He settled for a soft tone as to not further upset the newborn, “ _Yes,_ angel, and I need your help. I have no idea how these things work!”

He rose his voice slightly, for the drama of it all, truly, and the baby wailed loudly.

“Where are you? Do you have your car? Yes, of course you do,” Aziraphale began to ramble. Crowley rubbed his temple to stunt his rapidly forming migraine. 

“The bookshop!” The angel squeaked excitedly over the phone. “Come to the bookshop immediately!”

Crowley sighed because, _obviously,_ this was going to be a whole ordeal. Because he had, for some unknown reason, taken in a human child — that _breathed_ , and _laughed_ , and _cried_ — on a whim.

He told Aziraphale he would be leaving as soon as he hung up, but the angel insisted they stay on the phone the whole ride. Crowley groaned and explained his michief with the telephone lines. Aziraphale laughed shortly and told him it was fine, but to hurry.

So Crowley hung up the call with a click as he set the phone down in the booth. He allowed his head to hit the glass behind him as he exhaled. _What in Satan’s name had he done?_ Nothing good, he supposed.

He lifted his head and looked down at the baby he was cradling. It stared back with its sour gaze and Crowley removed his glasses. His yellow eyes dilated. The baby giggled and Crowley exited the booth and slipped into his car.

“Okay, little tyke, let’s go see Azi.”

 _Who Wants To Live Forever_ began softly on the radio as the car started up. The baby’s eyes fell shut quickly as he slept in Crowley’s lap. The demon made sure to drive by the regulated speed, terrified — though he wouldn’t willingly admit it — of what might happen if he sped up.

Crowley tapped his foot whenever he hit a red light out of nervous habit, whispering the lyrics of the song quietly to himself. He was surprised how much he ached to hear Aziraphale’s reassuring voice. It always seemed to calm his nerves. 

That, and wine. 

Whenever the baby stirred, the demon froze out of fear. He wasn’t equipped to deal with children, let alone newborn ones. Crowley let out a sigh of relief when, very late into the night, he finally reached the bookshop.

He hastily parked his car, slipping out like a eel and cradling the baby as he hurried to the door and blew it open like a madman. Aziraphale was seen pacing, a record player singing soothing music that echoed throughout the bookshop.

Aziraphale’s head shot up in shock, but softened upon seeing Crowley. The demon became suddenly aware of his unruly appearance and tired to straighten his hair and repositioned his shades on his nose. 

He cleared his throat. “I suppose you know how to handle him?”

Aziraphale lit up like a child in a candy store as his gaze dropped to the baby. Horror then crossed his face as he took long strides towards Crowley with his open arms. It made Crowley unbearably nervous.

Had he done something wrong? Was the baby okay? How could he have messed up something so simple? A featherlight touch on his arm startled him back to the moment at hand.

Aziraphale was gathering the baby up in his arms and Crowley willingly released his grip. The angel cooed and whispered as he bounced the child lightly.

“You were holding him all wrong, my dear,” Aziraphale supplied, his eyes not leaving the baby. “You have to _support_ the baby’s head.”

It was all nonsensical gibberish to Crowley, if he were to be honest. He hadn’t needed this information until now, and found it wildly frightening how easily he seemed to be accepting the baby.

Aziraphale must have noticed his worry quickly because, miraculously, the angel looked away from the newborn and up at the demon.

“Crowley,” he said sweetly, the name rolling off his tongue like a term of endearment. “You look absolutely exhausted.”

Crowley tried to offer some reassurance, but the words caught in his throat. Aziraphale offered a kind smile, delicate and understanding. He expertly balanced the sleeping baby on his hip and reached his free hand out to Crowley.

He staggered forward, taking the angel’s hand. Aziraphale’s expression remained tender as he guided Crowley to a room father back into the shop. The room housed an antique couch and armchair with a pale patterned carpet in the center.

Aziraphale released Crowley’s hand, his fingers lingering for a moment until he gestured towards the couch. Crowley shook his head. He may be tired, but he hasn’t lost all of his respect quite yet. 

“I _insist_ ,” the angel conceded. Crowley had learned early on in the other’s company that Aziraphale had a hard time taking “ _no_ ” for an answer when it came to someone else’s comfort.

Crowley stared the angel down, removing his glasses to show his yellow eyes thinning. Aziraphale held his ground, unsurprisingly, and Crowley trudged towards the couch.

He sprawled his body across it lazily and eyed Aziraphale suspiciously. “What are you going to do with the baby?”

“Nevermind that, I’ll be fine. Just rest, please?” Aziraphale looked sincere, but Crowley couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty.

“But what about y-“

“God, Crowley!” The angel exclaimed and didn’t take notice when the baby’s face scrunched up. Aziraphale frowned upon the use of the Lord’s name in such vein, but Crowley knew better than to point that out. It would make for a good retort, though. 

“If you can’t do this for yourself, then do it for me.”

The demon found himself unable to argue. If Aziraphale wanted him to sleep, he would. And he knew the other would be pacing all night with the baby in tow, but Crowley was far too worn out to get into a shouting match about Aziraphale’s neglect for his own self. It seemed almost hypocritical to, anyway. 

Wordlessly, Crowley placed his glasses on one of the couch’s arms and curled up comfortably on the couch cushions. He buried his face momentarily into the pillow that lay there. It smelled of fresh lavender. He sighed.

“G’night, angel,” Crowley mumbled into the vintage fabric.

“Goodnight, my dear. Rest well.” Aziraphale’s voice trickled like honey and his natural warmth seemed to hang in the air even after he left the room.

Crowley breathed in the fresh lavender once more and basked in the atmosphere of the angel’s novelty bookshop. His eyes hung low and he yawned as he nestled farther into the cushions.

**Author's Note:**

> next chapter will hopefully come out before graduation!!  
> tumblr; wastefulpretexts


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